Poking a Bull
by Flipdarkfuture95
Summary: The Legion doesn't break. But things work out differently when a Ranger is present.


_Ranger Station Delta, Near Boulder City._

A crisp flick filled the dusty air as a naked flame billowed from the tiny zippo lighter. The tiny flame's light shone on the Ranger's toothy smirk as she stuck a cigarette in her mouth, raising the lighter to the end and humming to herself as a low groan came from the man tied up in the middle of the tent.

She took a drag from the cigarette, puffing out a hazy cloud. The Ranger held up the lighter, flicking it again and gazing at the rough carving of a bear on its hind legs in the metal, shimmering from the flame's light. Her black longcoat was draped over her shoulders against the cool nighttime breeze coming through the flapping front covers of the tent.

The man in the chair lifted his bare chin to show a bruised and scratched glare. His eyes scanned the dusty tent constantly, before narrowing at the Ranger.

"You know, regular troops, they have regulations against this kind of stuff. The brass frown upon it. But my superiors are a little different. They believe it can get results."

The Ranger ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair. "Now, from experience, I know that torture tends to make people say anything to make it stop, most of the time making it up on the spot. Like my stories to the CO after coming back blitzed from patrol." The Ranger took another drag as the man shifted against the ropes, the red bull on his shoulder pads clearly showing. "But you Legion fellas are tough sons of bitches, ain't ya? Got a manly man code that every Legionnaire must obey under pain of righteous mutilation. Sanctioned by ol' Caesar himself."

"By the will of the Legion, by Caesar's voice, I lay down my life."

The Ranger rolled her eyes.

"Cleansed in fire, bound in steel, tempered in soul, a man serves his existence to his comrades. He serves the will. He serves Caesar."

She dropped a sigh and turned her shoulder, looking over the tools laid out on the table before grabbing a heavy red monkey wrench, idly turning the tighteners on it.

The Legionnaire noticed. "I will die before I break, scum."

"Pretty little oath you got there, linebacker."

She turned around, wrench in hand. "Wanna know mine?"

The Legionnaire was silent.

"Though I walk the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. I will take no rest. I will accept no surrender. By my brothers and sisters in arms, I will protect the innocent, and slay the wicked." The Ranger chuckled as she flipped the wrench over and over in the palm of her hand, the light glinting off its edges. "Yep. My own personal oath. Heard it from some crazy-ass tank driver back in Shady Sands."

"The words of a profligate whore-"

The Ranger unfolded her arms and moved closer. "I really like these pet names you have for me, fuckface."

She clicked her tongue for a few moments before speaking. "I bet the little slave girls really like that face of yours when you're busy raping the life out of them. Let's give it a bit of color." The Ranger stood still for a moment before driving the wrench into his cheek, wrenching his head sideways with the force, tearing a hoarse yell from the man before she brought it about again, swinging it into the side of his neck with a wet crunch. He coughed and sputtered, gasping for air as his eyes went wide.

"Quit the screeching. What are the Legion's plans for Hoover Dam?"

"I will not break, I will not break-" Her face darkened. She dropped the wrench to the dusty ground, reaching to her hip and drawing a thick bowie knife from its sheath. Flashes of a body draped in white sheets ran across her mind as she flicked the knife towards the Legionnaire.

The Legionnaire's howls filled the tent as he thrashed about, crashing to the ground while still bound to the chair, blood seeping from the jagged gash that took his ear.

She couldn't help a chuckle as she wiggled the limp flesh over him before tossing it into the dirt. "Friends, romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears!"

She wiped her hands on her pants before bending down and wrenching the shuddering man upright. "One more time, cupcake. What are the battle plans for your squad?"

"A simple denarii like myself would not be privy to Caesar's plans-"

"Nope. You wouldn't be, ya' dumb little shit. So I'm gonna ask something different. Listen with that good ear of yours. What are the rumors among the troops? What is the Legate planning?"

The Legionnaire was giddy with laughter, lowering his chin and giggling to himself before throwing his head up and staring up at the tent ceiling with a wild light in his eyes, from either pain or the zealotry prized by the Legion.

"I have the honor of being in the first wave! The first of many that will shatter the lines of your profligate soldiers - the first of many that will wet their blade with the blood of the west-"

The Ranger arched her eyebrow. "Getting pretty poetic. I think I hit your head a bit too hard. Keep going. After me and my Ranger buddies pick you and you friends off with our snipers, what are you gonna do to us?"

"We will not yield! We will lay down our lives as the veterans advance over you, and pour into the insides of the Great Wall and slaughter the rats that cower within! The Frumentarii, will rain fire and smoke on your heads! And the Legate will sweep through your ranks with the strength of Mars himself!"

"Got all I need. Thanks for the entertainment, pal."

The Ranger turned her back on the hysteric prick sitting in the chair, making her way out of the tent. Her knuckles were white under the dripping blood as she clutched the lighter in a death grip.


End file.
